


Hoist Your Burdens

by aderyn



Series: Compounds or Stars [12]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 221b, Gen, you have to stay with him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-28
Updated: 2012-02-28
Packaged: 2017-10-31 20:42:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/348185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aderyn/pseuds/aderyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If you want peace, it's that direction; if you want deduction, if you want trouble,look no further."</p>
<p>“'Brilliant' is heavy. 'Gone' is light. But he’s  never going to levitate like that."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hoist Your Burdens

**Author's Note:**

> Title from A.R. Ammons' "Gravelly Run": "...stranger, hoist your burdens, get on down the road"

  _"If you want great tranquility, it's hard work and a long walk."--W.S. Merwin  
_  
  
 _If you want peace, it's that direction; if you want deduction, if you want trouble, look no further.  
_  
You know, whatever strange alignment there was that day (a double planet, Mars and Jupiter, backed by a crescent moon?); whatever it was, John could have looked the other way, hands locked behind his back to prevent them doing what he didn’t want done.  
  
But he didn’t, you know; they met, and he put out his hands, and Sherlock made use of them.  Or rather John made use of them, in the service of something more luminous. Or so he’s been told.

_You know, if you want peace, there's the door.  Bed down here for beatings and the dead. For beaten corpses. Rarely seen beds._  
  
He's never wanted peace.  He regrets that he's not mad enough to be called brilliant, just so he could be reminded, whenever anyone said the word to him, of Sherlock.  
  
“Brilliant” is heavy. “Gone” is light. But he’s never going to levitate like that.

_You could pack your bags now, you know, the anger, the sorrow. You could go for air and keep right on. You could be two short rings at the door, a stranger, a suicide, a murder.  You could refuse to open ever again-- or you could let me enter, and fix you, and break_.


End file.
